The first notion of it was when I was reading some story in the paper; some article pertaining to an insane man who inexplicably tried to harvest his own body by ripping each last part off. I was reading this case when I felt a tingling sensation on my cheek. I brushed my hand against my face to find a scraggly tiny black worm resting in my palm. I had detached the creature from my cheek and now peered at it.

Its appearance was more disturbing than the impression it had left on my head. It wasn't any ordinary worm; this creature had prickly minuscule legs jutting out from its slimy body. It exposed its retractable antennas in search of prey. I threw this insect or whatever it may be to the floor and swiftly squashed it with my shoe.

I lay in bed that evening hoping there wasn't any sort of infestation. Something about that worm had bothered me, whether it was its unusual length of eight inches or its grotesque looking appearance, I couldn't quite discover why it was eating up my ability to think straight.

Slumber finally overpowered my curiosity as I dozed off. When I awoke in the morning, I didn't move. I was paralyzed in bed, incapable of mobility. I wasn't disconnected from my legs, nor had shattered my spine, but rather I had something that had sent me into shock. I could feel the slimy wet texture of those worms on my face.

They crawled and crept their way across my skin. Unwilling to move from my body they sat there as if I were some sort of host. I reached my hands once again to my face. I pulled the disgusting crawlers from my skin. They seemed to be attached in some way. I watched my skin extend as I pulled them, almost as if there were some sort of suction they had created on my flesh. Regardless, I now looked at three worms resting in my hands.

I called an exterminator later that day. I explained in detail the worms I had been seeing. He said there was no such thing, that those insects have never been heard of before. Maybe there was some new species invading my home, I wouldn't be surprised due to the age of this house.

I went to sleep in a motel that evening. Ironically, I felt safer in a motel room in contrast to my own home. I rolled and tumbled in bed unable to sleep. I couldn't doze off no matter how hard I tried. I continued to roll in bed until I went to the bathroom. When I looked in the mirror my heart sank.

Now on my face were several worms crawling, all the same as before only now there were more. I nearly cried at this moment, but I was angered, these worms were going to leave, whether they were parasites or an infection I didn't care. I was going to ensure at all costs these worms were gone. I rose from the ground gazing to the mirror once again, and in a furious manner began peeling the creatures from my face.

In more agony than before I watched these worms fall from my face, one by one as they stretched my flesh. I ripped them and continued to rip them. I didn't stop; I was determined to get each last one off. I felt an excruciating pain shiver through my skull and tingle down my spine as I tore each worm off. Finally, my flesh was untainted.

I looked to the mirror with a grin and filled the room with a sigh of relief. I slept well that night. I woke up quite comforted. I made myself some tea, I read through the morning newspaper, and I dressed myself for work. I was on my way out, when I felt a little tickle send fear through my nerves. I slowly, reluctantly, raised my hand to my nose. I sluggishly moved my finger across the point this feeling originated from. I once again sensed the creature.

I didn't bother; my hand left my face and reached for the phone. I called for help. When the medics arrived they looked to me in shock. I opened my mouth speaking, "What? I thought I explained the worms and what they looked like?"

They responded, "Sir, there aren't any worms on your face..." I looked to them with a bewildered expression.

Then I retorted, "What do you mean? Then why are you looking at me that way?"

They both shared a look of fear, and then responded, "We don't know how to tell you this, but half of your face seems to be missing, it looks as if something has been digging away at your cheek."

"The WORMS!" I replied.

After that little talk, they brought me into a mental home. They couldn't see the worms, but I could. They bandaged my face up, but I still feel those scrawny bugs crawling under the gauze.





The passage above was written directly after the containment of this patient. The patient wrote it himself after the standard protocol psychiatrist had asked him to explain what had led up to everything. The victim claims he had to tear worms from his face; however, it seems to be driven by insanity as he continues to rip pieces of his own face. Unfortunately, it only looks like the "worms” spread, and based on the rest of his files, went to his legs, his arms and even his chest. The poor man couldn't help but rip up his own body. I would continue reading this passage and the details to you, but oddly after reading it I seem to be getting some sort of strange tingling on the back of my neck...

Written by Pacersnation16
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